


On a Thin Phone Line

by samidha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, Gen, POV Dean Winchester, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-06
Updated: 2009-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Sam's been dreaming again.





	On a Thin Phone Line

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt at end.

Dean had just drifted off to sleep in a room with a single queen bed. He lay atop the threadbare brown and green plaid comforter with his boots still on and his clothes still smelling, inevitably, of smoke. His phone rang from its place on the nightstand and he woke, instantly back on alert. He cursed under his breath and turned to look at the bedside clock. 3:33 AM. That creeped him out every freaking time. He stared at the numbers but they didn't change. Yeah. Nice.

He reached blindly for his cell and blinked down at the display showing Sam's name. _Fuck. This better be the most important fucking call of his goddamn life.... He better be--_

"What?" he barked. "Do you enjoy being a creepy bastard? Do you know what time it is?" He was not going to cave on this. Sam had decided to walk away, and Dean was done. He was _done_. For once he'd been ready for his brother to go, too fucking _tired_ to offer any protest. Tired of Sam, tired of the life, tired of everything. For the first week, Dean swore up and down that he was happy and maybe even free. But the score hadn't really changed. The world was still ending, right on Lucifer's schedule. Castiel had just been so kind as to show Dean the brainless remains of Raphael's vessel twelve hours before and now Sam--fucking Sam--was on the other end of the phone and dammit, Dean should never have picked up.

"Dean... I... It was Jess and I... Jesus, I'm so damn sorry, Dean. I just... I have to talk to you."

_Fuck._

"I'm listening." Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying more.

"Please just..." His words seemed to register belatedly in Sam's head and he breathed out. "Okay. Okay. Dean... I didn't know, I wanted it to really be her but I should have.... She didn't really _sound_ like her, you know? Not the whole time. Except she kind of did... because... Fuck, I got her killed, Dean, I get everyone killed."

"Woah. Slow down there, Speedy Gonzales. Decide exactly why you're calling me right now and start over. _Slower_."

"Dean, it was Lucifer. I dreamt of Jess but it was Lucifer and I can't...."

Dean's stomach twisted with dread. Six months ago if he had gotten this phone call, he could have told Sam to lay the hell off the booze for a while and try to get back to sleep, but now everyone's favorite fallen angel was free (All Sam's fault it's all Sam's fault it's _all_ his fucking fault) and Dean had to listen to what his brother was saying, newfound resolve or no.  
.  
"Okay, Sam.... You've got my attention." Again. Still. Always. _Dammit, Sammy._ Dean sighed and forced the anger out of his voice. All that was left was exhaustion. He could have seen _that_ one coming. "Tell me what you know."

* * *

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and blinked, eying the clock balefully. Four in the fucking morning, talking to his brother that he'd sworn to stay away from. His brother who could have been three thousand miles away and it still would never be far enough. 

"Okay. I'm going for a serious long shot, here, but you're sure this wasn't like the other dreams? I mean, you've dreamt of Jess before, Sammy." _Sam, Dammit. Call him Sam. He's not the little kid you raised, Winchester. Get a grip._

He waited for Sam to bristle but instead his brother just went quiet. "I know," he said finally, sounding as tired as Dean felt. "But I swear, it wasn't. I wish it was but there's just no way, Dean. No headache, no nothing. Everything felt... really _real_. I mean, at first it was... _amazing_ , like... I don't know, she said she came to protect me and I--" His voice broke completely then. "I really wanted that. I miss her so much, Dean. And he knows. He _knows_."

"Yeah, well, he's the devil, I kinda gather he's sm--" Dean cut himself off before he could finish the thought. "Sorry. That's... Sorry." What the hell was he apologizing to Sam "I screwed the entire world, all in a day's work" Winchester for?

"It's okay," Sam sighed. "Don't-- I deserve that. I deserve everything, Dean, whatever you wanna throw at me. I know that.... I just... I'm scared, man."

"He doesn't know where you are. Right?"

"Yeah. I mean, no, he doesn't."

"So you're okay."

"Dean, I'm supposed to be his _vessel_."

"Yeah, join the club, Sam. We got jackets made."

Dean could swear he heard Sam's jaw snap shut at that. But he didn't shut up for long. "Maybe Michael isn't... I mean he can't be as bad, Dean..."

"Oh yes, he can," Dean barked. "I let that fucker in, I am toast."

"Me too," Sam said, like he was suddenly small and far away.

"I'm tired, Sammy."

"Me too, Dean. But we gotta figure this out. We--" 

_We? Oh, yeah, sure._ "Not tonight we don't."

"Dean!"

"I meant what I said, Sam, and so did you. We let them herd us back together and we're sitting ducks. He can't find you. You're okay. Just... stay where you are. Or don't. I can't think anymore, Sam, I need sleep. You're safe right now. You can call me if it happens again."

There was a startled, hurt noise from Sam's end of the line and then the call disconnected.

Jesus, Sam was good at making him feel like shit. Dean rolled over onto his back but he didn't bother trying to close his eyes. He watched the ceiling instead, and tried not to think about what it meant that he was humming Metallica, like that would help anything. No way was Dean Winchester scared out of his mind. He'd passed that thirteen hours ago, and now he'd done a full lap and passed it again.

* * *

Of course Sam called again, like clockwork. _Give an inch, Winchester._

But, okay. This time Dean was half expecting the phone to ring, even if the call coming in at exactly 3:33 was still creepy as fuck. And if Sam was right about this, then yeah. Having Lucifer on his ass was... probably reasonable cause, no matter what they'd decided about going their separate ways.

"He didn't bother with Jess this time," Sam said without preamble.

"Well yeah, cover's blown, isn't it?"

"Look. Dean. I know I don't... I don't deserve your help, here, but if he's going to... to use me... then _they_ do."

"Who?"

"Everyone else. The world."

"Yeah, Sammy. I know. Zach gave me the official stamp of angelic approval, remember? Apocalypse Ender 9000."

"I'm not saying... say yes to Michael. I'm just saying...." Sam trailed off, and Dean could hear the gears turning in his brother's gigantic (hand-picked by Lucifer, Jesus fuck) brain.

"What?"

"He needs your consent."

"Uh, _yeah._ "

"Lucifer needs mine too," Sam said softly, like he was suddenly lost in thought.

Dean was suddenly sort of giddy with panic or something, even though he was pretty sure Sam was trying to give him some way to feel better about this, because the next thing he did was actually laugh. "Just say no," he said, realizing that Sam had chimed in a beat after him to say the exact same thing. The two of them kept laughing, like it was actually even remotely funny. Just say no to the freakin' cosmos. But, hell, Dean had been doing that for months now, right? _Give or take thirty years._ Maybe.... "So that's... all we gotta do," he added, like he believed it.

"Yeah. Guess so," Sam said in that same thoughtful tone, and yawned. "Jesus. 'M tired. Call me when you've gotten some sleep. Or...." he added. "Um. You don't have to, I mean...."

"I'll call you," Dean said.

"Okay."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"We should talk to Bobby... See if he's got anything, some super strong anti-dreaming mojo or whatever."

"That'd be... good. I really doubt he's got anything Lucifer-proof, but it'd be...good."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah. I'll call him."

"You do that," Dean said, and hung up.

He was never going to sleep again, not ever.

* * *

Dean's thumb was hovering over Sam's name in his contact list when the psychic wonder called a third time.

"Dean... Bobby says he doesn't have anything and I had another dream."

Of course he did.

"Okay," Dean said. "Okay. Does he know where you are?"

"No, but I can't... I can't close my eyes, Dean, he's just... _there_ and he _wants_ me, Dean. I don't...."

"You tell him to fuck off, Sam, and you keep telling him. Tell him you don't swing that way."

"Dean, it's _Lucifer_. I already fucked up so bad, Dean, I don't know if I _can_."

"Well you're going to have to, boy wonder, or we're _all_ freakin' screwed to hell." He leant extra weight to the last two words and then paused, letting that sink in. "So you're going to."

Sam was silent for a long time.

"Jesus, Sammy, tell me you're going to say no."

"Of course I am!" Sam said, and guilt flooded through Dean despite everything. "But he's--"

"Okay, Sam. Stop. You gotta stop there, okay? I believe you. But you can't psych yourself out of this. You're saying no."

"Okay."

"It's the best we've got, so... That's the plan, just... stick to it. You have to. _We_ have to. Where are you?"

"I--"

"No. Wait. We'll just... We'll meet up. Okay? I'll come meet you."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Salvation," Dean said, the name of the town just... coming out of nowhere, but somehow it made a bizarre kind of sense.

"What?"

"Iowa. It's... I'm close enough."

"Oh. Yeah. How long?" Sam asked.

"I'll start driving now. I can be there by this time tomorrow."

"Okay. Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Just... Thank you. So much."

"See you tomorrow, Sammy."

There was a smile in his brother's voice as he replied. "See you tomorrow, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this apparently was for Sam to need Dean during the separation, having to do with The Voicemail, and no Cas.


End file.
